


ember

by QuasarSehnsucht



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Painfully implicit, Stream of Consciousness, Too much unsaid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuasarSehnsucht/pseuds/QuasarSehnsucht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jakes tries to approach to Morse in the terms of opera. Morse being Morse, refuses to admit any possibility that Jakes maybe is at the same wavelength as he is, but subconsciously takes Jakes' words more seriously than he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ember

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Endeavour episode three, Rocket.

 

 

" Don’t have a filter in you, do you?" Jakes tosses the stub on the ground, and stamps the ember out. He is standing by a pine, figure obscured. Morse, with an occupied head, wouldn’t have noticed Jakes’ existence if he was not stopped by the utterance.

 

" You’ve got to switch if off sometimes." Jakes sniffs, to cover his awkwardness. He seldom does this. Comforting. Patronizing, he does. But not mentoring. At least never to an Oxford boy. What Bright said to Morse at the body of the missing girl made even Jakes need more air. Maybe he is doing this for himself too. It’s quite shocking, disappointing and ridiculous to realize that you are not only putting up with a schmuck but also working for it.

 

Morse narrowed his eyes, lips moving. After an argument with Thursday, a restrained one though, he is less aggressively morose now. Morse looks at Jakes in the eye, the phrase “path of least resistance” enchasing itself in his mind, like the traces left after the rain vaporizes. Morse knows that the words have been there for a long time. It’s just after exposure of searing ire and charing pique that he can see it clearly.

 

Morse wants to talk about it. He needs to. But he can not.

 

" Well look who’s proud of his talent. Skillful and natural." Instead, he chooses to hide behind faked hostility. Again.

 

" You know what I’m saying, Morse. You just won’t see it." Morse hears Jakes’ voice from back when he walks away.

 

*

 

How could you make something right when God made it bent?  
How could you stop resisting when you’re fated to fight?

 

*

 

Morse goes home, draws the curtains down, turns on the gramophone, puts on _Dido and Aeneas_ , and drinks Scotch.

 

When the infuriating feelings cool down, all he feels is destructive impotence. With each mouth of liquor rolling down the throat, tears seem to be coming out at any moment.

 

 _Dido’s Lament_ begins to play.  
" … darkness shades me"  
" … death invades me"  
" … death is now a welcome guest"  
" … remember me but forget my fate"  
When it ends, Morse shifts the needle and plays it again. And again. And again and again and again.

 

When he opens the door and sees Alice, Morse has already forgot what he did with the telephone.

 

" Someone was going out when I came up…" Alice smiles.

 

Pouring the bile out of his chest was certainly something Morse wanted to do. Spiritual connect was too desperately craved. But he did not expect to have Alice at the door. Somehow it’s a little bit disappointing to see the pity in Alice’s eyes.

 

Morse is staring into an abyss on the edge of a cliff. He needs someone to pull him back into reality, to slap him awake, not to fall with him. He needs someone who sees through him. Thursday will do. But not enough.

 

Someone like-minded but opposite, so that he can be neutralized;  
Someone intimate but antagonistic, so that he can be free from tiredness.

 

Morse shakes his head. How could someone like that exist?

 

" You sounded awful on the telephone. As if the world was about to end." Alice worries.

 

" Just a small world, and not a very good one." Morse lets all his pathetic thoughts go away by a banter.

 

Being with Alice is thoughtless. The pure affection emanating from her eyes and every inch of her skin is reassuring and makes Morse wonder if someone like him can also have a sense of normal and belonging. The unexpected but wanted physical contact shields away all of the doubts and mental struggles. Is this also one of the filters that Jakes meant?

 

Morse stares into the ceiling and sees Jakes’ face.  
Morse turns on his side and kisses Alice.

 

*

 

" You should’ve listened to _Piangerò la sorte mia_ more often." Jakes shows at Morse’s desk. Wondered why he stayed for work.  
" Sorry?" Morse stops typewriting.  
" Sad but at least hopeful."  
" The man… you were at my place?"  
" Too much Dido would annihilate you." Jakes leaves and doesn’t forget to turn off the lights.

 

 

-FIN-


End file.
